Insidious
by TarnishedArmour
Summary: There is no such thing as rape in the wizarding world. *Read A/N & Rationale. Category: Dark Fluff


**A/N:** I fully expect to get hissy fits and complaints, flames and evil thoughts sent my way, but only because immature idiots didn't bother to read the next few lines titled "Rationale." I don't moderate reviews. I also don't write for immature idiots, so, if you are inclined to general being offended, understand that I don't care about your delicate feelings and go away now and pretend you never saw this story. This is a one-shot.

 **Rationale:** So much is written about the blatant Darkness in the Wizarding World; so much about the charm and fluff...but what about that Darkness that is so insidious that it has crept into Wizarding society and cannot be removed? This is a story that focuses on that Darkness. It could even be called Dark Fluff.

INSIDIOUS***everydayevil***INSIDIOUS

"And this is Shell Cottage," Bill said, showing Hermione around the house he planned to live in with his new bride, after they were married, of course.

"It's lovely, Bill, but..." she bit her lip, then rushed on, "well, you are going to clean it all up? Maybe new paint?"

He looked down, then back up, rather sheepishly. "Well, I know the spells, but I'm rubbish at decorating." Hermione gave him a look of patent disbelief. "It's true! I never did decorate my flat in Cairo—only added a bed and put up site notes on the walls. When Mum mentioned you were coming to visit this Christmas, I thought maybe you'd be welling to help? At least give directions—I know you're still underage for casting when not in school-"

"Actually, I'm eighteen. I turned twelve in September of first year." She hesitated, "And then there were some special circumstances later on which aged me close to a year more."

"The fight at the Ministry," he said, nodding knowingly. "With some of the curses that were flying around, I don't doubt it."

Hermione didn't correct him, but looked around. "All right. I'll help you set the place to rights. In return—you have to take me shopping." He groaned, and she shook her head. "Nope. Equal work for equal pay and all that. One full day for shopping with me, wherever I choose to go in exchange for," she looked around and calculated, "three days work here."

"So cleaning up the cottage is fair exchange for taking you shopping?" Bill sighed. "Deal."

"Right then! First, the dust and cobwebs simply must go..." And the cleaning started.

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Two days later, the basic painting had been done and Shell Cottage was beginning to look like a snug little house, just right for a young couple starting out.

Bill laughed as Hermione took a sip of her drink, hoping to cool the heat of the curry he'd ordered for them. "Too hot for you, 'Mione?"

"Mmph," she said, still gulping down the sweet juice. He got up and went to the kitchen, returning with a tall glass of milk.

"Here," he said, handing her the milk. "Take a mouthful and swish it around. It will help. I promise."

She did so, and the relief on her face was beautiful. "Oh, thank you! I thought my mouth was under attack by FiendFyre!"

He looked at her oddly. "What do you know about FiendFyre?"

Hermione shrugged. "I research. A lot. Sometimes I think that's the only reason we're all still alive..." She shook her head, determined to shove away the depression that always accompanied those thoughts. "So, what are you doing at Gringott's now?"

"The same kinds of things, actually, but I'm not on-site. There was a statue of Ra that was sent over last week..."

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After dinner and dessert, they had stretched out in front of the fire to stay warm in the little seaside house. It was getting late, and the day had been busy and tiring, even if the company had been good. Hermione stretched in front of the fire and smiled at Bill, lying beside her.

"Well, I need to get up and go to bed-"

She didn't get to say any more. Bill's lips were over hers and he was pinning her down, tugging at her jeans. She tried to get away from him — succeeded in pushing him off her for a moment, but when she flipped over to stand, he pinned her from behind. It was harder for her to get away, and much easier for him.

"No! Bill, don't! Please don't! Let go of me! No!" She screamed as he took her, sobbing as he pushed her down, unable to do anything except endure and listen as he murmured how sweet she was, how soft, in her ear. Before he finished, she was crying quietly, hoping it wouldn't take much longer and she could get out from under him.

He collapsed on top of her, his tall frame too heavy for her to move. All she could do was wait, try to breathe...breathe...too heavy...couldn't breathe...

Bill woke up feeling odd. Something — someone — was under him and ...he hadn't! His eyes closed as the memory flooded back, all of her protests — what he had done.

There was a reason witches were virgins until they married. There was a reason — and if he didn't act quickly, Hermione would lose all her magic and slowly waste away.

He lifted her in his arms, spelled her clothes back on as well as his own, grabbed their wands from the coffee table, and looked at the clock. Nearly 2 a.m. St. Mungo's would be nearly empty now. He levitated a handful of Floo powder and called out the name of the hospital — and may all the ancient gods help him if he was too late...

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"What happened?" the Healer asked, stepping into the room for emergency care patients who required great privacy. The distraught young man next to the unconscious young girl was nothing unusual. "A potion? Spell backfire?"

"I raped her," Bill admitted, voice rough with sorrow.

"Ah." The Healer looked at him a long moment. "Well, there's nothing for it, then. You have your wand?" Bill nodded. "And hers?" Bill nodded again. He'd grabbed it so she could hex him to hell and back when she woke up. "Take her right hand in yours, place your wands around the ring finger of her left hand." He waited, rolled his eyes. "No, not like that."

The Healer corrected Bill's grip, threading the fingers of his right hand through Hermione's and the fingers of his left flat against hers, his wand between their ring fingers and middle fingers, her wand between ring finger and pinkies.

"Repeat after me: I take you as my wife, my only witch, from now until death part us. I will honour you and care for you, taking my sins from you. You are free of fear, filled with joy, and I alone carry the pain of this night."

Bill obeyed. A golden band wrapped around her finger and his own, separated, and became wedding rings. Tears pricked his eyes.

"Now, take her back, exactly where you were, and wait for her to wake up. When she does, she won't remember anything, but she'll know something is different. Tell her the magic chose this union, and then make love to her."

"I can't! Not when I just —"

"You must. If you don't, she'll waste away and die, like the wedding never happened."

Bill hung his head and nodded once.

"Making love to her cements the bonding you just did, and the memories of what really happened will be permanently wiped from her mind."

"But not mine," Bill whispered.

"No, not yours." The Healer sighed. "Buck up. It doesn't happen often, and the witches are always happy-"

"I was engaged," Bill interrupted. "To a different witch." He ran a hand through his hair, no longer in its usual tail. "I don't understand why I...did that. We were working on the house I'd bought, and she's my little brother's friend. We'd worked together for two days, talked, eaten together — I swear I didn't want her! We were streteched out by the fire, and the next thing I knew, I was all over her, and I couldn't stop. Couldn't do anything but feel..." He stopped himself, not wanting to remember how hot she had been, how good she had felt around him — and not wanting to forget, either.

"That's enough, son," the older man explained, shaking his head. "You were home, and the witch beside you — it didn't matter who she was. You would have done the same thing to an old friend or your fiancée."

"But what will I do about my fiancée now? She's going to be furious!" Focusing on the temper of his bride-to-be helped distract him from the memory of Hermione under him.

"No, she'll be happy for you." The Healer looked down at the girl, the one he'd not bothered to hear named, and then at Bill. "Look, this has been happening for ages. As long as the man takes these wedding vows, then makes love to his witch — it's not really love, it's just more careful and tender sex, if that's what bothers you — then the witch only remembers magic and making love to a wizard and waking up with a wedding ring. The magic chose."

Bill sucked in a breath. How often had he heard those words? From his friends? From his mother...

So much about his parent's relationship became clear to him now.

He nodded once and then lifted Hermione in his arms again.

"Good luck, son," the Healer said, a sad smile on his face. "You see," he held up his left hand, "the magic chose for me, too."

Tears in his eyes, Bill walked to the Floo.

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"Mmm," Hermione groaned softly, feeling the heat of another body beside her. "What happened?"

"Good morning, Hermione," Bill whispered, lacing his fingers with hers. She had been so sweet and responsive in front of the fire that second time... but he'd never take her there again. The memory was tainted by her screams — the screams he could now hear, screams that echoed in his ears when bathed with the unforgiving morning light. No, he would not be the romantic lover who tenderly touched his beloved on a rug by the hearth. The heaviness in his heart might suffocate him if he tried.

"Bill?" she blinked, staring up at him. "Bill?! Oh, no! What happened? What did we do?" She tried to sit up, looking around frantically for her clothes, stopping to give Bill a wild look when he pressed her back down.

"Calm down, 'Mione." He chuckled, the smile not reaching his eyes. "I didn't expect it either." He lifted her left hand, showing her the ring then showed her the matching band on his finger. "But it happened."

Hermione's breathing stopped as she stared at the rings. "Oh," she managed. "The magic chose," she murmured, voice reverent. "Just like Molly and Arthur."

Bill closed his eyes to hide the agony that came with knowledge. "Just like," he said, keeping his voice light.

"But...what about the wedding? What about Fleur?" Her eyes widened. "What about school? What about Hogwarts? I have to finish school, Bill!"

"You will. I'll talk with Dumbledore about getting us married quarters at the school." At her shocked stare, he shrugged. "This is not the first time this has happened. A seventh-year Slytherin couple was allowed a room off the Slytherin Common Room my fifth year. You're a little older than most sixth-years—"

"And most seventh-years," Hermione reminded him.

"And most seventh-years, so there shouldn't be a problem." He kissed her softly. "Unless...you're not happy?"

"What? Oh, no! I'm happy, truly, Bill, I am! I just... worry." She looked up at him, biting her lip bashfully.

He kissed her again, soothing the abused lip. "Let me help you relax, then," he whispered as his hands moved over her body and his kisses stole the thoughts right from her head.

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"Mum? Dad?" Bill called, holding a blushing Hermione's hand as they walked in the front door of the Burrow late in the evening. She'd spent most of the day in bed with her new husband, the one magic chose for her, and she was uncomfortable. She was surprisingly happy at the turn of events, but sore in rather intimate areas; places she'd not really thought about or felt this much before.

"Oh, good, you're back. Bill, I need you to — what's this?" Molly stopped her bustling when she saw her eldest son holding the hand of the girl she suspected was her youngest son's secret girlfriend. Bill held up Hermione's hand, and Molly gasped. "Oh, how wonderful!" she cried, giving Hermione a huge hug and then turning to Bill. "How very, very wonderful! Boys! Ginny! Arthur! Fleur! Come here! The magic chose Bill and Hermione!"

Hermione turned toward Bill, blushing deeply as the happy matriarch called for everyone to come to the kitchen. Bill held her close, eyes closed as he kissed her hair.

"Isn't it wonderful? The magic chose Hermione for Bill!"

"Really?" Ginny squealed, ecstatic. Voices erupted all around, but Bill didn't say anything. He managed to smile, to nod as his family and even his former fiancée heaped congratulations on them. Not long after their good-wishes and hugs, the boys, including Charlie and the twins, escaped to the great outdoors, eager to be away from the marriage-minded ladies of the house. Magic-chosen marriage or not, the idea made them nauseous.

"I suppose Shell Cottage will stay empty for now," Arthur said, finally taking his turn to congratulate the new couple.

"For now," Hermione said, smiling brightly, accepting her father-in-law's hug with a brilliant smile.

Over her head, father and son traded a look of pained understanding as they shook hands, a formal greeting fitting for a newly-married son and his father, tame compared the to hugs Hermione was still getting from Molly and the girls.

"Be good to her," Arthur murmured when Hermione was pulled away by the excited females to the living room to gush over the unexpected marriage, the boys long gone to the Quidditch practice area.

"Always," Bill promised, tears in his eyes. Arthur gripped his shoulder, and he finally broke.

From the living room, excited feminine voices and happy laughter filled the air, unaware of the broken wizards clinging to one another, praying for forgiveness.

For the first time in years, Bill cried in his father's arms.

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End file.
